I’ve had little enough time to spare for her, certainly no opportunity to fulfill the promise I made. But I am determined to fulfill it. Ruvaen’s summons will come any day now, and my bride must be prepared for what is coming.
Silencing the voices in my head which try to whisper of other claims upon my time, I ride out from the Hidden City, follow the narrow trails of the surrounding forest, and emerge at last into the sweeping grasslands where thekhiirsheep graze, tended by their watchful shepherds. Beyond these fields is the wide plain between the Rocaryn Mountains and the Morrona, where Ilsevel and Diira gallop with wild abandon.
They are a sight—that small human form, clinging to the back of the blue-black licorneir mare, surrounded by her pale soulfire. They move together with a grace I would never expect to witness in such a newly-formed bond. None of the trainees I just observed sing with such a blaze of soulfire and possibly never will.Velarinbonds are not all equal; I have rarely encountered any this strong.
It must be her gods-gift, I consider, watching them gallop in that fluid harmony beneath the wide blue sky. Her divine affinity for music enables her to comprehend the song of the licorneir in a way even my own people do not fully grasp. That’s why they’re able to move together like that, demonstrating understanding of eachother akin to a bond many decades in the making. I’d be jealous were it not such a glorious sight.
“Here for the performance, are you?”
I wrench my gaze away from the vision of my wife and her licorneir, turning instead to a shadowy figure lurking on horseback among the trees on my left. Tassa guides her bay gelding out from the foliage into the sunlight. She looks bored. I asked her days ago to keep an eye on Ilsevel when I could not, for I do not yet believe she is safe here, despite the official proclamation Halaema made the night following her ordeal. Though Tassa protested that she had better things to do with her time, in the end she agreed. Only in secret, however. Ilsevel, I know, would not appreciate a caretaker. I trust my sister to remain unobserved, for she has a gift for blending into shadows when she so desires—a talent that would have been welcome out on campaign, had circumstances been different. Had she successfully formed avelarinbond.
“How is she doing?” I ask, nodding in the direction of my wife. Diira performs a smooth rollback, rider and mount synchronized through the lead-change and pivot. It’s impressive riding, far more than I would expect from a human.
“As you see,” Tassa says, the words spoken with some bitterness. She adds, “Nyathri was always a smooth ride.”
I cast her a short look. “Ilsevel’s form is excellent, and the blend of her soul with Diira’s incomparable.”
“Oh, don’t think I intend any oblique criticism of your preciousbride,” my sister growls, hunching her shoulders and leaning over the pommel of her saddle. “If I choose to criticize, I’ll do so overtly. You know me that well at least.” Then she straightens in the saddle once more, her eyes narrowing at me. “Do you truly intend to train her for battle?”
I grimace. “If the call from Ruvaen comes aftersilmael, I will leave her here. Otherwise she must ride with me.”
Even as I say it, I feel the tug of thevelrabond, urging me to dig my heels into Elydark’s flanks and send him charging out into the open country in pursuit of those two. My energy revives at the mere sight of her, but it only makes me crave her presence more. How in theshakhinghells I’m supposed to lead the charge against Evisar while so handicapped, I cannot imagine.
“There is no alternative,” I finish heavily.
Tassa curses softly. “You’d better get on with it then, hadn’t you?”
I nod. “Have you yourvaritaron you?”
Tassa doesn’t speak for a moment, even as her hand moves to the hilt of the sword strapped to her saddle. She knows I do not ask it of her lightly, but it is hard. In the end she unstraps it and hands it to me, scabbard and all. “Get your wife her own sword before Ruvaen calls,” she growls, and turns her gelding’s head about, disappearing into the trees. She doesn’t go far; she wouldn’t willingly leave hervaritarbehind.
I ride out into the open countryside. Elydark sends up a call of greeting, his voice rolling on the wind. Diira pivots and pricks upher ears before sending an answering song. Then she and her rider streak toward us, and soon I hear the sound of Ilsevel’s laughter. What a music it is! And when combined with the great joy I see radiating from her face, it could stop my heart. I have seen her so stern, so tense and frightened, so angry. On rare, beautiful occasions, I’ve seen her lost in the bliss of passion. But this natural, mirthful face of hers might be my favorite yet.
“I’m not certain which of us is more delighted at your arrival,” she cries as Diira pulls up alongside Elydark. “My licorneir seems to have a soft spot for yours.”
I could have told her that. But I like watching her discover for herself new things about her mount. “The two of you look good out there,” I say instead. “Strong. Well-matched.”
Her smile flashes again. “I feel as though I’m flying! Riding a licorneir isn’t much like riding a horse, is it?”
This might be the understatement of the age. “You are a natural,” I reply.
Ilsevel pats Diira’s shoulder affectionately. “I have a good instructor.”
“While on the subject of instructors . . .” I hold up the sword and scabbard Tassa loaned me.
At sight of it, Ilsevel’s face goes solemn. “I’d half-wondered if you’d forgotten your promise.”
“Did you hope I had?”
She grimaces. “Part of me did, perhaps. Part of me wishesthere wasn’t a need for it. But there is. So I want to learn. Whatever I can between now and . . .” Her voice trails off, unable to finish what neither of us knows for certain.
“There is a great deal of information to cover,” I tell her, “and far more training we must somehow work into your muscles and bones. But I promise to be patient with you, if you will be patient with me in turn.”
Her eyebrow crooks. “Patience is not my chief virtue.”
“So I’ve noticed.” I grin and extend the sword and scabbard to her again. “But you will try?”
“For your sake, warlord, yes. And I will try my utmost not to be distracted by the kissable shape of your mouth while you’re speaking.”
